


Before I Go

by Sinedra



Series: Irene Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Colonist (Mass Effect), Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fear of Death, Foreshadowing, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Effect 3, Non-Canonical Character Death, Romance, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinedra/pseuds/Sinedra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene tries to draft a letter for Garrus in case she doesn’t survive the war. It’s more of a toll on her than she imagined and she allows the fear to consume her. In this moment of weakness, Garrus finds her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [Last Wish](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3833914), I would recommend reading it first.

Irene set the datapad aside, tears having made the text too blurry. How could she be alright writing this? She didn’t want to lose Garrus, and, damn being selfish, she didn’t like thinking about him forgetting her. Those weren’t the words she’d written though; she’d set out to liberate not chain down.

Taking a shaky breath, Irene forced a chuckle. She’d pulled out of other suicide missions, what were the chances he’d ever read it? The laugh didn’t assuage her, not like it was supposed to. So she got up. The movement of the Normandy so familiar now, hypnotic almost, the thrum of the engines meaning comfort and safety. Right now they were just an incessant noise she abhorred.

Hiding the datapad away, inside the model of the Citadel, she contemplated just wiping the thing and forgetting about it all together. It was the fifth attempt and had not improved. Everyone knew Shepard was about as eloquent as she was a good dancer, but this had to get her emotions through.

“EDI.” Shepard was supposed to be confident as well, but Irene’s voice wavered dangerously with tears.

“Yes Shepard.”

“You are to tell **no one** the location of that datapad.”

There was a hesitant pause from the A.I., the human nature of the action not going unnoticed to Irene. “I will keep it’s location secret.”

“Garrus,” she began again, “is the only one you tell. And only, I mean **only** , under the circumstance that I’ve died EDI.”

“Yes, Shepard.”

“Swear it to me.”

“I’ve put the action under the highest priority. No one but you will be able to override it Shepard.”

“Good.”

When EDI had gone silent once more, Shepard collapsed into her chair and cried again. Mordin, Ashley, Thane… all dead. Just names now, names that would mean nothing if the Normandy were destroyed. EDI would never ask her for more advice on being human, she would never suffer through more of Joker’s horrible quips, Liara would never give her that bright smile again, Tali would never come up for late night chats, and Garrus-… Perhaps it was selfish just to think about her people when the world was at stake, but she didn’t care. They had entrusted their lives to her. Would die following her.

If she fell, would she drag them all down with her?

 _No_ , she slammed her fists onto her desk, _she_ wasn’t _going to die!_ She would toss the datapad out of the airlock; instead, she would start planning an outrageous party for when this was over. The galaxy needed the fearless Commander Shepard, not the Irene that wanted to flee. The woman who was terrified beyond reason.

So she stood, reached out for the model on her wall, hand poised to remove the data-

“Irene?” She jumped, knocking her chair over in the process. Hands clasped immediately behind her back. Garrus stood inside the room. Any other human wouldn’t have noticed, but she had become familiar with how the emotions tied to the shift in face plates. His mandibles pressed tightly against his jaw. He was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Irene hastily wiped the tears off her face, forcing a smile. He’d brought wine, expecting a quiet evening. To hell she was going to ruin it. “I’m just stressed,” the light buzz over her translator was the only indicator that he didn’t believe her, “I have so much riding on my shoulders that it’s hard not to think about it all. Hard not to remember all I have to do and who I have to save. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

The buzzing turned to a hum as Garrus set the wine aside and pulled her into his arms. He nuzzled her hair as she pressed her nose into his chest, her perfume still lingered on his civvies. “Thinking about taking it out on the Citadel?” a smile tugged at her face. “You don’t need to worry tonight. We’ll drink it all away, and if that doesn’t work, I found some more FPS games to kick your ass at.”

Her chuckle was genuine this time as she held onto him tighter. “I’ve never really played FPS’s before. It’s nothing like shooting at Armax Arsenal Arena, you have to give me a chance to figure it out.”

His laugh vibrated through her body and echoed over the translator. She felt lighter for having heard it. “Not a chance. Do you expect me to not take advantage of my “I’m Finally Better than Shepard at Something” list?” He pulled away from her, leading her onto the couch, “Tonight, you’re not allowed to think of anything besides you and me.” She gave him a small smile of acquiesce and he went back to the wine.

Irene already was thinking of both of them. She had been the whole evening, worrying enough for the entire galaxy. One last tear slid down her cheek as she glanced at the ship that housed the pad. Garrus called her attention back as he wiped away the tear with a talon, blue eyes heavy with worry.

So she smiled, smiled as though the world weren’t falling apart, as if _she_ wasn’t falling apart.

She did _not_ want to die!


End file.
